Teased

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She swallowed. There was no doubt he was allowing her to look her fill. Waiting and...allowing.

  What in the world?

  She breathed out, trying to slow her heart rate. Then her brain kicked back into gear, so she turned on a heel and ran.

  She tripped over a dog that scurried beneath a cart peddling roasting chestnuts. Run. She had to run. Sirens came from too far away, and she knew, somehow she just knew, that the blond guy wouldn’t let her talk to the cops.

  Her initial assessment about him was wrong because he couldn’t be a cop. Not once had he identified himself, and he didn’t seem to have a badge or a gun. In fact, a cop probably wouldn’t have knocked out both men without at least trying to gain their cooperation.

  The blond didn’t care about cooperation.

  She hurried across the street to the now moving throng of shoppers, her instincts humming. Keeping her balance, she turned slightly to look behind her. Panic rippled through her instantly.

  He stalked her, calmly, easily winding through the mass of people. No tension showed on his face or in his movements. He could be out for a nice stroll through the neighborhood.

  Except for his eyes. Focus, intense and absolute, lived in those dark orbs. He tracked her, keeping pace, not seeming to notice that people naturally got out of his way.

  Or maybe he did notice and just didn’t care.

  She turned back around, her shoulders hunched. Escape. Where the hell could she go?

  Pushing past a group of teenagers holding shopping bags, she edged in front of them to block her from behind. Then she dodged into a large department store and headed for the back, past all the holiday dishes.

  She’d learned early on in life to listen to her instincts, and right now, they were screeching at her to get away from the man.

  So she loped into a jog, careful not to trip in her favorite boots, and turned up the escalator, the toes of her shoes touching down briefly on each step. Reaching the top, she hustled through the lingerie department and ran smack into a saleswoman. Bras of every color went flying.

  “Oh my. I’m so sorry.” Olivia reached out to steady the girl, who appeared to be around nineteen.

  The girl laughed and shoved back bright purple hair. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” Olivia glanced around and took several deep breaths. She should probably call the police now that she was safe.

  A hand banded around her elbow in instant heat. “She had a scare outside and needs some water.” The voice was smooth, cultured, and commanding.

  The salesgirl blinked and stepped back, her eyes widening right before her smile followed suit. “Hello.” She coughed and then pushed out her boobs under a nice silk shirt that matched her hair. “I’ll, ah, get water.” Turning on a sparkly wedge, she stepped over abandoned bras to head through a doorway behind the cash register.

  Olivia slowly turned around and then tilted her head back...way back. The blond stared down. “Who are you?” she hissed.

  “Let’s go.” He pulled her toward the aisle, having rolled down his shirt sleeves. Probably to cover the blood.

  “No.” She jerked back, not surprised when his hold didn’t relent. “Release me, or I’ll start screaming.” That sounded like a good idea anyway. She sucked in air.

  The world spun.

  Somehow, she ended up with her back against a brick column and her front plastered against an impossibly hard male body. Panic engulfed her, and she opened her mouth to scream.

  His mouth planted against hers, driving all sound back down her throat. A warm palm cradled her head, her whole head, and held her in place. She stilled. Completely.

  Her eyes widened just as his narrowed.

  Heat spread from him, all but surrounding her. The look in his eyes captured her attention as it quickly spread from determined to something...else. Something hungry.

  Not once in her life had she been called dainty, but with his large frame blocking her, she felt small. Feminine. And somehow, from the interest in his eyes, powerful.

  “Get your mouth off mine,” she murmured against his very warm lips, her body shocked into holding still.

  One of his eyebrows, much darker than his hair, arched. “Are you going to scream?” he whispered right back, the movement of his mouth against hers sending irresponsible tingles down her torso.

  “Probably.” Yeah. She kind of liked her lips moving against his.

  He grinned. Right against her mouth, he smiled, and the tingles turned to tidal waves.

  What was wrong with her?

  She blinked.

  He growled low. Growled.

  She trembled, and some of it might have been from fear.

  He levered back, his face still only an inch from hers. “Turn on that sexy heel and come with me now, or I will toss you over my shoulder and we go. Either way...we go.”

  She leaned back into the brick, studying his face. No humor...no give. He meant every word. While she wanted to be a badass warrior, she’d already seen him move and fight. She wouldn’t win. And now she had the young salesgirl to worry about. Would he hurt her?

  Olivia couldn’t take the risk. “Fine.” The second she was outside, she’d make a break for it. No matter how tough the guy, a good kick to the nards would take him out. Probably.

  He slid his hand down her shoulder and clasped her elbow, setting her slightly in front of him and propelling her toward the down escalator. She allowed him to maneuver her but kept her shoulders back and her head up. They rode down, and tension vibrated down her back.

  She tried to look agreeable as they wound through the store and exited outside to the gray and snow-falling day.

  Then she turned and shot her knee up as fast as she could.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Chalton shifted his hips in order to deflect the female’s knee and yet allow her to keep her balance. Her pretty emerald eyes had given more than ample warning of the strike coming.

  She huffed and set her leg back down.

  “You done?” he asked mildly.

  A wild, very wild, flush worked its way up over her neck, chin, and high cheekbones. “Not even close.”

  Damn, he liked that spirit. Liked it a whole lot. “That’s unfortunate.” He glanced around at the mass of bodies rushing past them living lives he truly didn’t care about. “Olivia, we need to talk.”

  She tried to step back, and he grasped her hand to keep her from being swept away. “How do you know my name?” All color drained from her pretty face.

  He cocked his head to the side. “I’ve been following you for two days.”

  Her pointed chin lifted. “I haven’t gone anywhere for two days.”

  “I know. It’s been very boring.” But now she was in his hands, and he could finish his mission. Although threatening her to keep quiet and stop writing about his people didn’t seem so clear-cut now that he’d had his mouth on hers. On her very heated, soft, feminine mouth. His gaze dropped on its own volition to those plump lips.

  She cleared her throat. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  He lifted his head. “Like what?”

  She licked her lips, and he groaned out loud. “What do you want, buddy?”

  He grinned. “Chalton. My name.”

  “Chalton.” She rolled the sound around on her tongue.

  Now he fucking loved his name. “Yeah.”

  “Russian?”

  “A long time ago.” About three centuries, to be exact.

  “You don’t have an accent.” Suspicion darkened her eyes to the color of a green sapphire he’d seen once in a royal crown.

  “Я хочу, чтобы лишить вас голым.”

  “Hmm.” Her shoulders settled, as she no doubt found some measure of safety with people all around them. “What did you say?”

  He couldn’t repeat what he said since it involved getting her naked and was no doubt very inappropriate. “I wished you a good day.”

  “Right. What do you want?” Clearl
y, she didn’t believe a word he said.

  “To talk.” He glanced around. “Away from the crowds and the cold wind.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, the wind lifting her hair. “In your spaceship or lair? You wanna wear my skin as a suit, do you?”

  He laughed, unable to help himself.

  She blinked again. “Murderous kidnappers shouldn’t have such nice laughs,” she murmured and then stilled.

  Did the woman say everything that was in her head? While the idea should irritate him, instead he found an intriguing charm in the idea. Creative people were often the most interesting, now weren’t they? “I have no plans to murder you.”

  “That’s a relief,” she snapped, trying to pull her hand free.

  He kept it, quite liking it where it was in his. Then he settled. Energy cascaded around her, filtering through the air. “Ah, hell.” Enhanced. The most beautiful woman he’d held in eons was enhanced and thus a possible vampire mate. Was she psychic? Empathic? Human females with special gifts were probably linked to the witches and were possible mates to immortals like him. “The king had better not be matchmaking,” he muttered, losing his smile.

  Olivia lifted a finely arched eyebrow. “The king? What king?”

  Now he was blurting out his thoughts. “Forget it. We need privacy for a talk as well as to protect your safety. Any idea who the men in the van were?” They were human, but he hadn’t had a chance to interrogate them before she’d bolted into the store, and now it was too late. The cops had arrived and were questioning people down the street.

  He knew the second she caught sight of the police because her body stiffened and drew in air. “Don’t do it,” he said, leaning into her.

  She gasped, and her head shot up, those green eyes narrowing. “Kiss me again, and you’ll lose a lip.”

  He grinned. “Damn, you’re feisty.” Then he lowered his head to within an inch of hers, letting intent and focus show. “And that wasn’t a kiss.”

  She swallowed and glanced down at his mouth before looking back up. Pink colored beneath the smooth skin on her face, and she cleared her throat. Her scent of wild flowers wafted around and tempted him far more than he liked, as did the curiosity in those stunning eyes. “Back away,” she whispered.

  “Promise you’ll come with me and not scream.” He tried to smooth his face into reassuring lines. “You have my word I won’t harm you.”

  She snorted. “Right.” Her shoulders drooping, she glanced around. “I appreciate you rescuing me from the guys in the van, but I don’t know you. Or trust you.”

  He nodded. “I understand, but you’re probably still in danger. Let’s get out of here.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll make you a deal. There’s a café across the street. We can go in, have a cup, and talk. Make your case and explain why you rescued me from the van, who you are, and what you want from me.” She turned back to him. “Or I start screaming my bloody head off and kicking like you’ve never seen a woman kick.”

  His groin tightened. Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, just like a teenager...he got hard. Spunk and brains had always done him in with women, and this one had both in spades. The cops were getting closer, and there was a good chance the men in the van had friends also looking for the female. “Fine.” He kept ahold of her to lead the way across the street, winding through barely moving vehicles.

  Her skin was soft and her hand small. Somehow, it felt just right in his.

  He shook his head. There wasn’t time for this. Even as his body rioted, he could feel danger stalking near. Energy popped in the air, and his breath quickened.

  Just as he reached the coffee shop door, a ping next to him threw up concrete.

  Shit. Somebody had shot at them. He pivoted and shoved Olivia in front of him, propelling her to the side of the building. Covering her with his body, he glanced around the corner.

  Sunlight glinted off a riflescope atop the brick building across the street. The gunman was crouched down, barely visible behind the sniper’s rifle. He’d only taken one shot, and the passersby hadn’t even noticed.

  “What?” Olivia gasped, her back to the building.

  “Sniper across the way.” He looked down at her fashion boots, quickly calculating escape routes. “Can you run in those things?”

  “Sniper?” She tried to lean around him and look, but he planted a hand on her upper chest and shoved her back. “You’re freakin crazy.”

  He squinted up at the steel-structured building across from his current one-way street. If there was one killer, there might be two, and Olivia was vulnerable on the street. No movement showed across the way, but his instincts kept humming.

  Going with his gut, he grabbed the door of a cab driving by and yanked it open. The driver hit his brakes, scattering slush. Chalton shoved Olivia inside before him. He sat and slammed the door.

  The cab driver, a swarthy man wearing a spotted tie decorated with Rudolph, glared. “Get out. Light isn’t on.”

  Chalton drew out several hundred-dollar bills from his pocket to hand over the seat. “Drive. Now.”

  The guy snatched the cash and turned to hit the gas pedal.

  Olivia recovered and scooted for the other side, reaching for the door handle.

  Chalton clasped her arm and dragged her into his side, giving her a warning squeeze. When she stiffened, glancing at the driver, he leaned in to whisper, “The driver can’t take me, and you’ll put him in definite danger if you ask for help.”

  She exhaled slowly, thoughts scattering across her pretty face.

  “Drive faster, and I’ll tip you well,” Chalton spoke louder, keeping his gaze on Olivia. Who was trying to shoot her? While he’d read all of her news reports detailing the missing proprietary information from the labs his people had used to generate a cure for a virus that had attacked vampire mates, he hadn’t spent any time reading her other works. “What are you involved in?” he growled.

  She shivered and clasped her hands in her lap. “Bite me,” she whispered back.

  Hell, he’d love to bite her. A pretty woman should never say such a thing to a hungry vampire.

  He leaned over her to look out her window, and she gasped, edging back in the seat. The figure on top of the building ran in pace with the taxi, rifle in hand, easily keeping up. He wore all black—including a mask. Yet there was something familiar in the way he moved.

  Chalton frowned. Who the hell was that?

  They needed to cross an intersection. No way could the sniper leap across the street.

  Apparently the shooter realized the same thing, because he ran ahead. Probably to set up for a shot.

  “At the corner, turn left suddenly,” Chalton ordered the driver. “It’ll be worth a thousand.” He hoped he had that much in his pocket.

  Olivia turned wide eyes on him. “You are batshit crazy, you know that?”

  The driver shrugged and kept to the left, honking his horn several times to keep folks moving.

  Bullets sprayed the side of the taxi.

  “What the hell?” the driver bellowed.

  Chalton yanked Olivia across his body to the other side, blocking her. She landed with a muffled oof.

  “Oh my God. They are shooting at us,” she yelled.

  “Yes.” Chalton glanced ahead.

  She frantically patted his sides. “Shoot back.”

  He frowned. “I don’t have a gun.”

  “Why the hell not?” she yelled.

  “Don’t like them.” Not anymore. He didn’t need guns. Finally, they reached the intersection. “Turn. Now.”

  Tires screeched as the driver turned. Chalton grabbed the back of Olivia’s head and pushed her toward the floor. “Get down.” Depending on the angle, the shooter might be able to make a shot through the back window.

  The driver edged down in his seat, barreling through traffic. The stench of fear filled the car.

  Chalton ducked down and took a good look. With his eyesight, he could make out the serial num
ber on the rifle as well as the height of the shooter. The guy stood up, watching the cab, his gun aimed harmlessly at his feet. He stood several inches over six-feet tall, with a well-muscled form. Smooth and graceful even with such bulk.

  He yanked the mask off, revealing a cap of dark hair and familiar, mocking dark eyes. Then he smiled—slow and dangerous.

  Everything in Chalton stilled. His head jerked back. “Son of a bitch.”

  Olivia glanced up from her perch on the floor. “What? Do you know the guy?”

  “Yeah.” A rock settled hard in his gut. “He’s my older brother.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Olivia planted both hands on the torn leather seat and pulled herself up. Fear tasted like acid in her throat, and an unwelcomed heat filled her lungs as a prelude to a possible panic attack. “Your brother just shot at us?”

  “Apparently.” Chalton eyed the festive storefronts now speeding by. “Stop at the next light and let us out,” he ordered the driver.

  Olivia edged toward her door that led to the busy street.

  The driver, muttering beneath his breath, yanked the car to the curb. “Get out of here.” He turned furious eyes toward the back seat. “I’m calling the cops.”

  Chalton handed over what looked like a wad of cash. “No cops.” Without waiting for an answer, he clamped a hand around Olivia’s arm and hastened her across the seat and out his door.

  The cabbie sped off.

  Olivia glanced at the top of nearby buildings. “Tell me you only have one brother.”

  “Two.” Chalton rubbed the back of his neck. “We need cover.” Keeping her arm, he led her across the sidewalk to a specialty cigar shop, quickly texting something on a type of smartphone she’d never seen before.

  Olivia’s ears rang and her temples began to pound. She glanced around the shop for another exit, but a glass cabinet blocked the entire rear of the store. One proprietor assisted two elderly gentlemen near the wall. No help there.